


Sweet Home Iowa

by restricted_access



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Genderswap, My First Fanfic, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Build, girl!Kirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-04-25 09:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22288591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restricted_access/pseuds/restricted_access
Summary: "In just over six hours, at 0900, her mother would be officially planetside. Jamie sighed and began the 45 minute journey back home. It was going to be a long day."
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Original Male Character(s), James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought posting embarrassing, self indulgent fanfiction was kind of a high school thing but I guess it can also be an unemployed after college thing. My like, fave fanfic author of all time said: if there wasn't the kind of fanfiction you wanna read out there, write it. So that's what I'm doing lol. I wonder if anyone's gonna read this. 
> 
> Just in case someone does read it: there's drunk driving in this. Be warned. 
> 
> Idk if I'll ever finish it. Writing is hard, go figure.

Jamie Kirk abruptly stopped at the entrance of Riverside’s Celestial Observatory. Her date for the evening (Chris? Kevin? She couldn’t remember his name) stumbled to a stop behind her and let out a drunken giggle. Ignoring him, Jamie removed a small, crude looking device from her pocket, twisted the frayed edges of two loose wires together and jimmied them into a small hole at the bottom of the keypad on the door. She had drilled the hole the first time she broke into this facility, about five years before, and remarkably it had remained undetected ever since. An algorithm changed the access code about once a week and hacking the lock remotely was much more time consuming then doing it onsite, she had discovered. The little device lit up and numbers began to scroll across the LED screen. Jamie turned around and looped her arms around Calvin-or-whoever’s neck.

“Gonna be a second. You still got that joint?”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding breathless and a little stupid. His cadet uniform was looking a tad worse for wear after their small hike through the underbrush, detouring the building’s singular automated security outpost, but he still smelled as good as he did at the college party she picked him up at. They made out lazily against the locked door until the device chirped and they made their way inside.

When they reached the main observation deck, Jamie tossed what’s-his-face a lighter and began fiddling with the nearest computer. A couple seconds later Jamie had her favorite star system projected onto the large domed ceiling. The room lit up in a supernova of color and light that circled ethereally above their heads. Flavor-of-the-day gasped and she snagged the lit joint from between his limp fingers.

As a kid, she spent a lot of time at this observatory since she was a member of a bunch of nerdy astrophysics clubs. She had even made a couple of minor discoveries and proudly published her first research paper when she was eleven. When she was twelve, she was arrested for the first time and her membership to most of these (Starfleet affiliated) clubs was revoked and with it her access to the observatory. She had to resort to breaking and entering if she wanted to use the research facilities. Or if she needed a quiet place to take a drunken one off. He had roommates, apparently.

Wandering across the room, she took a couple of long drags from the joint, located the flannel blanket she knew someone kept in the cupboard on the back wall and made herself comfortable on the floor. Her date made his way over to her while gaping unattractively at the ceiling and settled himself beside her.

“Man, that’s really something. Are you sure we should be in here? Isn’t there a camera or something?”

She raised an eyebrow. So much for boldly going where no man has gone before. Besides she disabled the camera already. Obviously. “You wanna leave?”

He shot her a look and let a slow smile creep onto his face. Not a bad look for him, if she was honest. He grabbed the proffered joint and settled back. “You’re fucking wild, didja know that? Where does a high school dropout get bootleg lock breaking tech anyway? Selling that shit is a Class A felony. Didn’t think there were many crime bosses here in buttfuck, Iowa.”

She forgot that she had told him that she dropped out. Easiest way to explain why a 17 year old didn't have school the next morning while drinking heavily on a Thursday night. In reality she graduated when she was 14 but telling people that made her sound like a douchebag. In any case, she didn’t _acquire_ bootleg lock breaking tech, she built it in her garage. She smiled and said, "A better question is what does a high school dropout have to do to get her end away around here? Asking for a friend." 

He took one last drag of the joint, stubbed it out and rolled on top of her. He kissed her deeply and ran a hand up under her shirt. He pulled back, flushed and breathless, and asked, "wanna blow me?"

She laughed loudly in his face and pulled him back in for more sloppy kisses. They began to clumsily undress and soon enough he was pushing slowly into her. He let out a groan and dipped his pretty head onto her shoulder. He gave a couple of deep, uncoordinated thrusts before finding a rhythm and settling in. Jamie tipped her head back and sighed. 

Damn... She was already losing interest. His teeth dragged sharp and distracting along her collarbone. Her thigh began to itch where it chafed against his leg hair. Sure he was cute and his technique wasn't bad but it was just...sex. Far from mind blowing, it was hardly even diverting. She probably wouldn't even be able to get off, at this rate. Her mind was already wandering, somewhere in the nebula that glittered high above. Latent anxiety about the upcoming weekend began to dampen her hard earned buzz. She wondered if she could reach the joint from here. 

A respectable but unremarkable ten minutes later, whoever-the-fuck squeezed his eyes shut, pulled out and came over Jamie's stomach, all the way up to her clavicle. Jamie was unwittingly impressed by this considering how much he had to drink. He was muttering praise into her ear, warm and uncomfortably wet; shit like "you're so hot" and "you take it so well." Jamie rolled her eyes and began to wiggle out from beneath him. She reached for the joint, lit it and quickly chiefed the fucker. She figured it was only fair since only one of them came. Time to wrap this shit up. 

“So...Charles-”

“Connor…. My name’s Connor.” He peaked out from behind the arm he had thrown over his face. 

She smiled archly at him in apology. “Right. Connor. You don’t happen to have a cigarette on you by any chance, do you?”

After hastily wiping down and tidying up, Jamie quickly returning to the computer to cover their traces, the two of them found their way to the exit. With a cigarette in her hand and a dopey smile on Connor’s face, they made the precarious journey back to the main road. Jamie led the way to her speeder, parked carelessly on the shoulder. She tried valiantly to tamp down her disappointment and budding restlessness. It wasn’t Connor’s fault, she knew. But as far as distractions went, this one was pretty uninspiring. 

The two made idle chit chat on the ride back to student housing. Connor let his hands wander, to Jamies distant irritation. She dropped him off with some muttered promises to call him sometime, and glanced at the time. In just over six hours, at 0900, her mother would be officially planetside. Jamie sighed and began the 45 minute journey back home. It was going to be a long day. 

***

At around 0930 the next morning, Jamie stood miserably beside Frank on a landing deck at Riverside Shipyard. The sunglasses she was sporting were failing to prevent weak rays of sunlight from stabbing at her poor retinas. Her stomach would roll occasionally and she had to suck deep breaths through her nose to prevent herself from gagging in front of the handful of gathered reporters. Fuck, why did she think being drunk for this would make it _more_ tolerable? Frank glanced sideways at her and rolled his eyes. He had _strongly advised_ getting a good night's sleep for this. It was a miracle he had resisted the temptation to tell her “I told you so” this far, the dumb square. He had bought her a coffee on their way over, though, so she should probably be kinder to him, even if only in the privacy of her own head. She still made a face as he turned away. 

Just for the record, it wasn’t the prospect of seeing her mother that was driving her to distraction. Everyone knows that mommy issues are the least sexy of the neuroses, and besides her mom was fucking great. A badass in the extreme. Furthermore, if she was a psychologist (which she wasn’t) or prone to any degree of introspection (which she certainly wasn’t) then she would imagine the whole Dead Dad thing would be higher on the list of contributors to her concerning-but-still-cute alcohol abuse. It’s just, when she was with her mom she became a spectacle; on display. Jamie wasn’t too proud to admit that from the outside looking in, she was kind of a massive disappointment. It became much harder not to dwell on her bad decisions when people, you know, actually paid attention to what she did. Also, she would be forced to attend a bunch of Starfleet events over the next three days and heels fucked up her feet for weeks. 

Only 45 minutes behind schedule (not bad for this type of thing) a runway extended from the parked starship and disembarkation commenced. Jamie watched as dozens of crewmembers came ashore in a steady stream. After about ten minutes of this, Winona Kirk, second officer and chief engineer, finally began her descent. Despite herself, Jamie’s lips quirked when she laid eyes on her. Damn but if it wasn’t good to see her. They made eye contact and Jamie’s face broke into the grin that had been threatening earlier. Winona hurried the rest of the way down towards the waiting landing party and wrapped her daughter in a hug. 

“God, I missed you. Have you grown? Is that something people your age still do?” Winona pulled away and wiped the dampness from her eyes, grinning like a loon. 

Jamie laughed and said, “I think you just shrunk. What are you, like, 50 now?”

“Im 42 you dick,” Winona said, smacking Jamie on the arm. “Also why do you smell like an ashtray? Are you smoking again?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned away from Jamie to give Frank a quick peck on the lips. They smiled and whispered at each other while Jamie pointedly looked away.

When they were done canoodling, Winona wrapped her arms around the both of them and started shepherding them towards the car. “Let’s blow this joint. I’m dying for a non-replicated meal. There better be food in the fridge.” 

Frank sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and said, “How does drive through sound?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly if you have anything at all to say, be it positive or negative, please please comment. Thanks for reading <3

Jamie stood in the corner of Riverside’s singular hotel’s tastefully decorated ballroom - the designated location for all local Starfleet events - nursing a drink she had talked out of one of the bartenders. She watched her mother network, flitting about the room, while Frank valiantly attempted not to look too out of place on her arm. Poor, dumb hick looked even more uncomfortable than Jamie felt. Riv Th’Kaaneqq, the son of a distant relative of the Andorian monarchy and the guy she fucked at the last one of these Starfleet shindigs, refused to take a hint and had been attempting to corner her since she had entered the room. The dude had about as much tact as a Klingon with a phaser blast to the kneecap. At least his sister Zyta wasn’t there. Zyta had had it out for her since Jamie stood her up to sleep with her brother. All in all, the two of them had only hooked up a handful of times. There was absolutely no explanation for the level of fervor that Zyta had been directing towards Jamie’s demise ever since. The whole family evidently had a possessive streak. 

Riv spotted her and started beelining towards the back of the room. Panicking, Jamie spun around and fled before he took her hostage and she was forced into making excruciating small talk with a former fling. She had discovered last time that his mouth was good for exactly one thing and it wasn’t chatting about galactic politics. She was starting to think she ought to be more discerning about her bedpartners before she had to beg off of going to these things entirely. She neglected to pay attention to her surroundings in her haste to escape and ran bodily into a berobed partygoer. The man turned around and leveled Jamie with the blankest stare she had ever seen. 

Sensing an opportunity, Jamie adorned her most devastated face and batted her eyelashes. “I’m awfully sorry. Tell me you’re alright, won’t you?” She subtly positioned herself between the stranger and the wall. 

“I am not injured,” the ostensible Vulcan replied without any inflection. He made an adequate barrier between her and the rest of the room, hopefully obscuring her from Riv’s view. 

Jamie was a little lost on how to proceed. Her presence usually invoked some sort of reaction, be it positive or negative. This whole cold indifference thing was definitely new. She wasn’t used to _working_ to secure someone’s attention. He began to turn away and she blurted “I haven’t seen you at one of these things before. Where’re ya coming from?” 

He turned back around to face her without displaying a single emotion. “My home planet is Vulcan. It is my first time visiting Earth. Given these circumstances, the probability of a former encounter between the two of us is negligible.” 

“Are you saying the chance of us meeting was one in a million?” She smiled up at him through her lashes. 

“Negative. My father is an ambassador to the United Federation of Planets. As you have just indicated that you regularly attend Starfleet events, my decision to accompany my father on his recent tour increased the likelihood of our acquaintance by upwards of 5000%. Given the number of people in attendance tonight, the probability of us meeting was approximately one in six hundred.” 

_Such a romantic_, Jamie thought snidely. The encyclopedia he swallowed clearly didn’t have any entries on how to be fun at parties. Whatever, she enjoyed a challenge. “What’s your name?”

“It is impossible for humans to pronounce my full name.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna have to make one up.” 

“Addressing me by a name I am unaccustomed to responding to is illogical.” Jamie waited and gave him a pointed look. Predictably, he cracked. “You may call me Spock.”

“Spock, no way! That’s the name I was gonna make up for you!”

Spock leveled her with another blank stare and didn't deign to dignify that statement with a response. _Tough crowd_. “How old are you, Spock?” 

“I am approximately 18.6 standard years old. I understand that in Earth culture, this signifies the achievement of a developmental milestone.” 

“Yeah, congratulations. You will now be legally charged as an adult in Earth court. I hope you don’t plan on getting in too much trouble.” 

Spock’s eyebrow twitched minutely. “I do not plan on getting into any trouble.” Jamie watched Spock silently calculate the relative merits of continuing this conversation as opposed to returning to his previous company. Considering they were a bunch of stodgy old Vulcans, Jamie was feeling good about her chances. Android though he appeared to be, he was still a teenage boy and Jamie was (she had been frequently assured) a pretty girl. Lo and behold, Spock followed up by saying, “You have not shared your name with me. May I ask what it is?”

“Yeah, I’m Jamie. Jamie Kirk.” Spock’s face lit up in recognition. Jamie spared a moment to regret using her real name. If he asked about the Narada incident she was absconding. She’d rather take her chances with Riv. 

“Jamie Kirk from the Journal of Planetary and Space Science? Did you perchance publish a paper on your discovery of the unique orbital trajectory of several previously undetected exoplanets encircling white dwarfs?”

It was Jamie’s turn to stare blankly at Spock. She’d never had anyone call her out for being a nerd to her face like this before. “Uhhh…” she said, articulate as ever. 

Spock’s ears flushed. He had actually emoted, nearly imperceptibly, in his excitement and was clearly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. He rushed out, “my apologies. Kirk must be a more common name than I had-”

“No, no, you’re right. I did write a paper on atypical gravitational phenomena in the Journal of Planetary and Space Science, years ago,” Jamie cut him off. Remarkably, her genius might actually facilitate her getting laid tonight. She wasn’t about to squander this unprecedented opportunity. “I didn’t think anyone read that paper besides maybe my mom. You took me a little off guard, is all.”

Spock’s blush hadn’t yet abated. “The mathematical models derived in your research were quite...fascinating. I confess, I did not predict the author of such innovative research to be so…” 

Jamie quirked an eyebrow. “Hot? Charismatic? Humble?”

“Young,” Spock deadpanned, recovering from his momentary bout of passion. “Humans have a much lower intellectual capacity than Vulcans and do not reach academic maturation until early adulthood. As for your relative temperature, I am sure I cannot comment.”

Jamie laughed. “Thank you, Spock. It's high time someone kept my ego in check. Can I get you a drink?”

Spock hesitated. “That would be acceptable.” 

On the way to the bar Spock said, “I believe we are under the statutory age limit to consume alcohol. How is it that you acquired your previous beverage?”

Jamie smirked up at him. She guessed getting in a little trouble was now on the table. “Let’s just say, I didn’t wear this dress because it’s comfortable. I know how to work my assets.” To Jamie’s delight, Spock’s eyes darted down to her cleavage and his blush returned. Definitely _not_ an android, then. 

Prohibited inebriating substances in hand, the pair wandered to an unoccupied corner of the room. Spock took a sip of his drink and manfully tried to hide his grimace. Jamie caught it anyway but repressed the urge to comment. 

They launched into a refreshingly heated conversation about recent breakthroughs in theoretical physics and subspace travel. It had been a while since Jamie had the opportunity to talk with someone with a similar knowledge base as herself, and Jamie found herself, almost unwittingly, begin to enjoy herself. Spock was cute and smart and she was beginning to suspect he was being funny on purpose with his whole "obtuse tourist" gimmick. Jamie took the affirmative position on the possibility of transwarp beaming and was in the middle of her (incredibly persuasive) argument on the virtue of Montgomery Scott’s preliminary research when they were rudely interrupted by none other than Riv. He shot an annoyed glance at Spock before leering down at Jamie. 

"So I heard about you and my sister. I didn't know you swung both ways." 

Jamie cringed internally. This wasn't a good look, even for her. 

"Riv," she said, insincerely. "So great to see you." 

“If it’s so great to seem me then why have you been avoiding me all night? If it’s a little lesbo action you’re after, all you had to do was ask. Let’s find a third and get out of here.”

Jamie kind of hoped she would spontaneously burst into flames. Spock appeared to have turned into a statue beside her. Could this day get any _worse_? 

“Enchanting as ever, Riv. Always a pleasure, let’s never do this again.” Jamie tried to turn away but was halted by a surprisingly firm grasp on her upper arm. She felt her ankle give out in her stupid, impractical shoes as Riv hauled her back into spitting distance. 

“You’re such a fucking tease. What do you want from me, huh? Money? Give it up already.” Jamie struggled against Riv’s grip. Her mind raced trying to figure out a way to knee him in the balls without causing too big of a scene. She felt bruises begin to form on her arm. 

The situation abruptly left her hands when Riv, without warning, dropped to the floor like a prize fighter at a fixed wrestling match, making an ungodly clamor on his way down. Jamie looked at Spock in astonishment. She watched his hand retreat back to his side from where it had...pinched Riv’s shoulder? Everyone in a twenty foot radius from where they stood fell silent and turned to stare. An older Vulcan with Spock’s chin transferred his gaze from Riv to Jamie with an unreadable expression on his face. A small crease had formed between Spock’s eyebrows but otherwise he appeared unfazed. 

“Okay, time to go. Now. Like, right now, Spock.” Jamie grabbed his elbow and did a little half jog out the nearest door and into the lobby. 

Jamie spared a moment to make sure they hadn’t been followed out before turning her attention to Spock. “What the fuck was that?!”

“I located a parasympathetic pressure point in..._Riv’s_” he said the name like a dirty word, “peripheral nervous system and rendered him unconscious.”

Jamie’s anger was derailed for a moment. “Huh. Neat. You’ll have to teach me how to do that.” She pulled herself together and forcefully rearranged her thoughts. “Nevermind, that’s not what I meant! I meant, why? I had the situation completely under control!”

Spock had the decency to look slightly abashed. “I apologize for intervening. I did not appreciate what he was insinuating about you and allowed myself to become...emotionally compromised. I recognize your autonomy as an independent woman and should have allowed you the opportunity to handle the situation in the way you deemed appropriate.”

Jamie felt herself get whiplash from the frequency in which she had vacillated between anger and mollification over the course of this conversation. “Oh. Well. Thank you for saying that.”

Spcok’s face flashed in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment of unbridled anger before he schooled his face back into impassivity. “His manners were shockingly inadequate. Forgive me, but I do not regret causing him bodily harm. I do not mean to be presumptuous but I am surprised he was ever able to secure your admiration.”

Jamie let out a breath. “Admiration is definitely pushing it. But I see what you mean. Can’t say I’m bringing myself to regret watching him get put on his ass. Talk shit, get hit, as they say.” 

Spock looked perplexed. “Does discussing excrement generally warrant a physical rebuke?”

Jamie let out a surprised laugh. Before she could respond, her mother and Frank burst through the door and into the lobby. The Vulcan with the intense stare followed closely on their heels. 

“Jamie, what the hell? I can’t leave you alone for five fucking minutes? You are in sooo much trouble, young lady, you better kiss any weekend plans you may have had goodbye. I swear to god, it’s like your mission in life is to cause me endless amounts of stress and hardship-”

Jamie turned to Spock. “Comm. Do you have one?” Spock nodded. “Well hand it over, come on, quickly.” 

Spock passed it over without comment. Jamie inputted her comm number and handed it back. She then sincerely uttered two words for the first time in her life. “Call me?” Spock nodded again. That is when their parents descended. 

“-and I can’t believe you would think that this is the forum to resolve whatever petty teen drama you’re currently experiencing. This is my _work_, Jamie! Do you have any respect at all for what I do or is Starfleet just some kind of huge joke to you?” Frank was standing beside her mother with a face that plainly said _I can’t help you now, kid_. The other man, who Jamie assumed was Spock’s father, stood rigidly beside his son and they were making what appeared to be completely neutral eye contact. Looked like Spock was in deep shit, too. Served him right, this was at least 40% his fault. 

Her mother hadn’t stopped yelling long enough to catch a breath, so far. Jamie shot one last look over her shoulder at Spock as her parents dragged her away. _He better fucking call_, she thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Jamie stood outside with a handful of credits in her hand and strict instructions to take a cab straight home. She also received a short but deadly “I’m very disappointed in you” from her mother who had stormed back inside to continue ingratiating herself to strangers. Jamie spent a moment considering, then kicked off her heels and started walking towards a dive bar about a mile up the road. 

Much to her own embarrassment, Jamie spent the next fifteen minutes contemplating how difficult her safe, middle class life in a small town was. She was prone to the occasional bout of teen angst, despite generally having intellectual mechanisms to defend herself from them. They usually occurred when her mother was around. 

_Why does mom care more about the opinions of strangers than the welfare of her own daughter? Why does she only pay attention to me when I’m screwing up? If my dad were alive, would someone actually take my side or would mom just have a different passive supporter?_

Ugh, she needed a drink. And possibly a lobotomy. All the pathetic whinging in her head was giving her a headache.

She rocked up to Better Days a little past midnight, put her shoes back on and made her way to the bar. She made eye contact with the bartender and quirked her lips into a smile. He let out a low whistle. 

“Damn, Jamie. You look like shit.”

“Wow if people don’t stop saying such nice things about me today, my ego may never recover.”

“What’s with the get up?”

“Is this a fucking job interview? Why don’t you just pour me a drink, Ed.”

Ed Scorsese snorted and retrieved three shot glasses and a bottle of tequila from behind the bar. Despite Jamie's foul mood, she couldn’t help feel a surge of fondness. Ed had been the judgement free facilitator of her alcohol dependence for the last two years and damn if she didn’t respect him for it. Jamie partook in some creative accounting on behalf of this fine drinking establishment in exchange for a friendly overlook of her obvious adolescence. Naturally, she was in possession of an excellent fake ID but a bouncer can only suspend their disbelief so far when you’re 14 and baby faced. She had a little more optionality these days but for whatever reason, Better Days was still her favorite bar. 

Something crashed in the background and someone let out a strangled scream. _Must be the ambiance_, she thought. 

She took each shot in turn and Ed dutifully refilled them. Ed looked her up and down and scratched his nose. “You wanna talk about it?” he said, gruffly. Jamie suspected he harbored some paternal feelings for her but he was too uncomfortable with anything resembling sentimentality to act on them often. It usually manifested in throwing creeps out on their ass, a completely safe and embarrassment free display of affection. Jamie appreciated this, too. The last thing she needed was another man with a savior complex complicating things while she was trying to get drunk.

“Nope,” said Jamie. “Which is too bad for you because it’s a great story. Full of romance, violence and intrigue. But I don’t want to talk about it even a little bit so don’t even ask.”

Ed snorted. “As long as I don’t need to kill anybody, I think I’d rather not know. Ignorance is bliss, haven’t you heard?” 

“Someone should have told me that before I started my second dissertation. Now here I am, educated and depressed.”

“Stop whining. If it weren’t for that sketchy finance course, you’d be sitting here buying your own damn drinks.” Jamie looked up, sharply. “Yeah, yeah. This round's on me, you sorry sack. Chin up or I’ll lift it for you.”

Jamie gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Ed. You always know the right thing to say.”

Ed grumbled and wandered off. Jamie didn’t pay him much attention once he was out of her immediate eye line. Jamie downed another two shots and turned around to check out the clientele. With any luck, someone new would be in and she could hustle them at pool. None of the regulars would play her anymore. 

To her absolute, jaw dropping surprise, at that moment she caught none other than Spock walking through the door. He looked regal and all together out of place in the dingy, low lit room. His eyes met hers and he made his way over to the bar, settling his satin clad elbows on the sticky countertop. Jamie felt her heart rate pick up. 

“In order to gauge your receptivity to an amorous entanglement between the two of us, I believe it is customary for me to ‘return the favor,’ so to speak, by buying you a drink.”

Jamie’s face broke out in a goofy grin. “You called!” 

Spock’s eyebrow twitched. “In fact, I did not call. I was warned that this would be breaking a widely accepted cultural norm. I do not wish to appear ‘overly eager,’ as it were.” 

Jamie had to think about that for a second. “If you didn’t call, how did you know I was here?”

Spock’s forearms flexed in what would look like a nervous gesture on someone else. “You did not disable the location services on your comm. An oversight if your aim is to be untraceable.” 

Jamie tried to drum up the appropriate amount of outrage she knew was warranted in response to being tracked down like a chipped stray. Strangely, all she could think about was Spock awkwardly consulting some unnamed peer on the best way to ‘initiate an amorous entanglement.’ In the end, she was too happy to see him to call him out for being a creep. 

"You have some catching up to do," Jamie said, handing him her sixth shot. “How’d you escape your dad? Looked like he was pretty pissed.”

Spock eyed the shot dubiously before taking a deep breath, closing his eyes and throwing it back. His face scrunched up for a second but he managed to regain his composure after only one, strained cough. “My father is Vulcan and does not experience emotions such as anger. Moreover, he trusts in my ability to evaluate novel situations and react appropriately to stimuli.”

Jamie had deduced that the best strategy with Spock was to wait him out. Jamie maintained eye contact until Spock broke and looked away. "He indicated I was not to return to our lodgings until I reflected on and remedied the damage I had caused.”

Jamie winced in sympathy. She could only imagine how an austere Vulcan ‘indicated’ his displeasure. “Oof. Way harsh.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "It was likely less than I deserved. I behaved most illogically."

"Nah, your reaction was only natural. How often have you had to deal with cocksure misogynists who don't know how to keep their mouths shut?”

Spock looked embarrassed. “Chauvinism exists all over the galaxy, even on Vulcan. Though, I confess, no one has elicited such a visceral emotional response from me since I was a child.”

Jamie's eyes widened in delight. “Wait, are you saying Riv isn’t the first dickhead you’ve ever knocked out? I thought Vulcans were above that kinda thing.” 

"Vulcan society was once very tribal and warlike. Logic is merely a tool that we used to liberate ourselves from the control of our baser emotions. All Vulcans are at different stages of their journey towards perfect rationality, myself included. Some are closer to this ideal than others."

Jamie noticed that wasn't a denial. She stole a glance at his rigid profile. “And how close are you? Are you ever tempted to heed the draw of your...baser emotions?” 

Spock’s eyes met hers and Jamie felt tension permeate the air around them, sickly sweet smelling like perfume, coiling lazily around their heads and settling low in her belly. She had made Spock blush again, she noted, with no small amount of gratification. His eyes snapped away when Ed rambled over to replenish their empty glasses. Spock looked down into his cup, slightly disheveled and still green-faced.

“I… Um…”

Jamie took pity on him and changed the subject. “If you’re supposed to be repenting or whatever, what’re you doing here with me?” 

This time, when Spock looked up, he didn’t look away. Maintaining eye contact, he said, “even open reflection, my only regret is the possibility I may have reduced myself in your estimation. I find that remedying your opinion of me is my only priority. Riv can - to use a Standard colloquialism - go fuck himself."


End file.
